Chaser Tryouts
by Phaxsoone
Summary: Lily tags along to tryouts for the new Gryffindor chaser, as requested by James. Lily


**Author's Notes: **Hi! This is a small Jily oneshot. Thank you so much to 'Lugian Before Swine', who beta'd this incredibly, and taught me a lot in the process! Thank you very much! I'm not 100% happy with this fic. I'm not sure why; I just think it could be a bit better written on my part. Hope you enjoy it anyway, there is more similar (but hopefully better!) to come! :D Please review!

**Chaser Tryouts**

I was sat in the library reading my Transfiguration notes, helping with a question on the homework I didn't understand. It was way out of my ability zone, but I knew I had to do it. I was just thinking about what would happen if I just didn't hand it in when he walked in and sat opposite me.

"Hey," he said, interrupting my reading.

"Hey!" I replied, "How are you?"

He looked awkward, as if he wanted something but didn't know how to ask for it. That was the first sign right there – James was never hesitant.

"Great, listen." He demanded, "I need to ask you something."

He looked pointedly at my notes. James was never like this, not knowing what to say or how to say it; he had a way with words usually. Though the impatience was nothing new, his angst was slightly worrying. I closed my notebook instantly, looking at him in concern.

"Yeah, what is it?" I questioned, my eyebrows furrowing.

From there he just spoke in a garble of barely understandable, incredibly fast words.

"Look, I know you never come to practice, and I know you don't want to, but I've _got_ to get a new chaser soon, and I need to hold tryouts sometime next week, but I don't trust myself not to get it wrong and it would really mean a lot to me if you came and helped me choose. Please?" He hurried, looking at me expectantly, though I was still trying to comprehend what he'd just said to me. He wrung his hands together, and then dragged them underneath the table.

James never asked me for help with Quidditch related things; we both knew he knew best when it came to that. I knew he was concerned about his chaser dropping out of the team, but I didn't think he would ever resort to this. Asking _me_ of all people on advice for Quidditch. He had given up begging me to go to practice with him, though I knew that, for some reason or another, he still yearned for me to be there. I guess he trusted my judgment that much, to want me to go to tryouts, which was really sweet but also really rather worrying. I smiled – I knew he'd never admit that he relied on me that much.

"James, of course I will. I don't know what help I'd be, but of course I'll come with you. If it means that much to you, I'll be there," I said.

I reached across and took his hand, which had now reappeared above the table. I gave it a reassuring squeeze, comforting him.

His face lit up, clearly elated.

"Really? You'd do that for me? But you hate Quidditch!" He stuttered, evidently shocked.

I laughed. "Well yeah, I do," I pondered, still chuckling, "but no, you wouldn't ask if you didn't mean it; if you need me there, I'll go," I smiled.

"Thanks Lil', that means a lot. I'll make a date with the team tomorrow at practice, and I'll let you know," he assured me.

I smiled at him. We paused like that a while, staring idly at each other, before I asked him a rather anticlimactic question.

"Can you help me with this Transfiguration, James?" I asked slightly awkwardly.

He chuckled, "Sure, what is it?"

He looked down at the question, and just like that I forgot about the different, unsure, awkward James I had just seen.

•••

The tryouts were scheduled for 5pm on Wednesday evening, one of the times they were usually using the pitch for practice. The entire Gryffindor team would be there, something that James had asked of them. They, like me, would be there to support him; help him make his choice, though they'd probably be much more help than me. I still wasn't really sure why James wanted me there, to be honest; I knew nothing about Quidditch! I was so nervous; I had to impress James's team, and I could _not_ let him down. He put too much trust in me; it made me anxious.

The team was meeting at 4.30 in the Gryffindor common room. They were going to make sure they would all be there before the fliers were. Of course, there would be some incredibly enthusiastic people who would probably be there from four, but the time they'd said was five, so that would be _their_ problem.

I had absolutely no idea what to wear. I had decided on skinny jeans and my scruffy boots, but did I wear any Gryffindor paraphernalia or not? I suppose I could wear my scarf, but I didn't want to seem overconfident, but I _did_ want to be seen as supportive and eager. See, Quidditch is so complicated!

In the end, I decided on my jeans and boots, a dark brown hoodie and my Gryffindor scarf. If it looked completely out of place, I could always make James wear it.

Once I got down to the common room, I was pleased to see that most – but not all – of the team were already downstairs and dressed in something similar to me, a few wearing plentiful Gryffindor supportive clothing, others wearing none, but the majority– including James – were sporting just an identical scarf to mine.

"Hello," James greeted me, his face lighting up at seeing me.

"Hi," I replied, slightly nervous.

I said hello to the team members I knew, and met the few younger ones I didn't. They were all very welcoming to me. That was the thing I liked the most about James' team – they were supportive and great players, but they were also all so kind and nice to everyone, something that was obviously hugely needed in a successful team. We waited another few minutes for the rest of the team, and then James led the way to the Quidditch pitch, me at his side.

"I wonder how many people will turn up…" he mused idly. His expression was thoughtful, yet he was staring directly at the pitch a few hundred yards ahead of us.

"Loads, I reckon," I answered truthfully. "So many people want to be on the team, I think we might be here for a while," I said. I realized a second too late that I did not hide the unwilling, reluctant tone to my voice. Crap.

He looked at me sadly. "You don't have to stay you know; you can go back to the common room if you want," he offered. I could tell he meant it, I really did have a choice, but I needed to stay and support him.

"Nah, you never know, it might be quite interesting." I winked at him, laughing.

He ruffled my hair, chuckling. He knew me too well, and I knew he could see that I wanted to be there for him.

"Thanks, Lil'. You're pretty incredible; you know that, right?" he said, without a hint of sarcasm. Huh. That was unusual.

"Well, I try my best," I shrugged, smiling.

We were fast approaching the pitch, and I could see not just the small group who'd already turned up to try out, but also the few spectators who were anxiously waiting in the stands.

"Oi, Potter!" someone yelled from behind us.

We both turned and saw Colin Donnelly, a 5th year beater running towards us. He had a shaven head, and he was big and stocky, perfect beater build.

"Yeah?" James answered.

"Reckon you should kick 'em out," he suggested, jerking his head towards the small crowd, "they could be spies."

James thought about this for a while, obviously considering it as an option. I didn't know Donnelly very well, and I had never spoken to him properly, one to one. He was slightly intimidating and obviously the suspecting type.

"What do you think?" he asked me.

I froze. He was asking me for advice _already_? No one had even mounted a broom yet! I thought about it, looking around, biding my time.

"Um, I think you should let the Gryffindors stay, but ask anyone else to leave," I suggested timidly.

He looked at me for a moment, rubbing his chin like he always did when he thought about something for a decent amount of time. He was evidently considering my idea.

"OK, we'll do that. Great idea, Lily," he congratulated, slapping me gently on the back.

I smiled. James ran ahead and shouted at the small group whilst Kelly Macken, a very intelligent 4th year, conjured a wooden sign, the words 'Gryffindor spectators only, sorry' painted untidily on it in red paint.

"Good idea," I mumbled as she hammered it into the ground with the mallet she had also conjured.

The team and I waited for the fliers anxiously, though after talking to the spectators and all, we only had to wait another 5 minutes for the tryouts to begin.

It was unlike James to be this anxious, even about something Quidditch related. He was usually so sure about everything; he was always joking and never nervous. It worried me when he was like this.

Once the fliers arrived, his authoritative side stepped in. About eighty people had turned up, ranging from over excited 1st years who couldn't fly on their little second-hand cleansweeps to save their lives but were just so happy to be stood on a Quidditch pitch with the Gryffindor captain, to 6th and 7th year girls who weren't listening to a word James said, just stood there twirling their hair and giggling pathetically. They _really_ got on my nerves.

James split them up into 10 groups, sorted by age, and asked the groups one by one to fly a lap of the pitch. He stood watching, asking me my opinion often but also thinking for himself. A _lot _of people fell off their brooms, or flew into the goal posts and got sent to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey would _not _be happy with us. Together, we got the group down to about 30, which, very unfortunately for me, involved Jessica Birch, a very pretty yet nasty 7th year girl who always appeared sweet and endearing to the guys, but all the girls hated her; she was so bitchy behind peoples' backs. I should know; I've had to share a dormitory with her for seven years, and she was _not_ a likeable or ideal roommate. I had to hand it to her though; she was a decent flier.

Splitting this big group into 6 smaller ones, he asked them to pass the Quaffle up and down the pitch in turn. Those who were very slow or dropped it often were eliminated, the remaining 12 – including Birch - staying on the pitch.

By now, practically the entire Gryffindor house – including Professor McGonagall – were gathered in the stands, watching eagerly.

"Phew, what the hell do we do now?" James murmured subtly to me, running a hand through his sweaty hair with a sigh.

"Um, why don't you try them scoring, then eliminate a few again, then try some out with the team?" I suggested.

He looked at me in surprise for a moment.

"I'm so glad you're here, Lil'," he chuckled, shaking his head. There was no sarcastic nor exactly happy tone to his voice, just plain relief.

"Right!" James shouted, walking towards the group. "I want you all to line up one behind each other and take a shot at one of the goals, OK? Right, Mullog, you're up first."

He came and stood beside me again, watching as Danny Mullog, a very dexterous 5th year flew quickly in the direction of the goal, a Quaffle in his hand. He drew his arm back, forcing it forward again, releasing the Quaffle as it flew through the central goal. Everybody clapped, a few in the stands cheering. He pumped his fist in the air, clearly elated with his success.

James crossed his arms, nodding his head.

Birch was up next, and she got the Quaffle through just as easily. I sighed, causing James to look down at me.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," I replied innocently.

He turned to face me as Birch flew round to the back of the line.

"Lily, I asked you to come here so you could give me your opinion, so please, _what_?"

I sighed again. I probably shouldn't tell him, but then again, _I _definitely would want to know.

"Well, it's just, Birch is kind of known for, well…"

"What?!"

"She just, is a bit of a bitch behind guys' backs, I guess; she hasn't got the best reputation with the girls. She'll just constantly try and get with you, James," I said, looking at the ground, pushing my grubby boot against the mud. James stared at me, pondering for a moment. I refused to meet his eyes.

"Evans, are you _jealous_?" he asked incredulously. The use of my last name proved that his joking, playful side was back, and also that he didn't really mean it.

I shrugged, blushing, ignoring the elated, smug look on his face.

"Watch the fliers," I mumbled sheepishly.

"You _are_!" he yelled, too happy about this fact. All eyes were on us now, embarrassing me.

I smacked his arm.

"James! You are supposed to be choosing a new chaser, pay attention!" I said, keeping my voice low.

"Sorry. But Lil', if you don't want her on the team, you only have to say something, you know," he said, looking serious now.

"Well, that's not exactly fair. She's a good flier; you can't not put her on the team because of me," I mumbled.

He looked at me, smiling, but didn't reply.

After all the fliers had shot at the goals – seven missed, six scored – he made them all stand in a line in front of the team and I. He rattled off six names and asked them all to step forward.

"Thank you very much for coming and trying out today, but I am afraid you won't be the new chaser. If you'd like to go back up to the castle or sit in the stands, you're more than welcome. Thanks very much guys," he announced. The group left; most thanking James and the team politely.

That left seven people now, including Jessica Birch and Danny Mullog, along with a good friend of mine, Daisy Rice. I really hoped she got it; she was an excellent flier.

"We're going to try you all out playing with the team, see how you fit in, and then I'll make my choice," James said. The team ran off to get their brooms, leaving me alone with the fliers. Birch moved over to me, her feline litheness seriously intimidating,

"Looks like _someone_ might be losing their little beau soon enough," she sneered.

I felt myself go red. I had been out here in the cold for 3 hours; I really wasn't in the mood for her taunting right now.

"Shut up," I mumbled.

"Aww, how sweet. Why exactly _are _you here, Evans? You didn't _honestly_ think he wanted your help, did you?" she laughed maliciously.

Shut up, shut up, _shut up_!

"If you ask _me_, he only wanted you to see this to make you jealous." She said the last word with such spite, such animosity; it stung. Her tone was full of such hate and exaggeration; every word she said was like another twist of the knife. I forced myself to be strong and, for once, came up with a semi-decent comeback.

"Why would I be jealous of _you_? Besides, shame for you, he's already said I have final say on who he chooses, so just watch out, yeah?" I said, faking confidence. I turned and walked away. I may have twisted the truth slightly, but it seemed to have worked. Or so I thought.

I heard a manic, enraged screech from behind me, and then a hand grabbed my hair, pulling me to the ground sharply, painfully. Suddenly, she was on top of me, spitting in my face.

"Seriously? You honestly think he would choose you out of _choice_?! Someone bribed him Evans; it's obvious! Why would he have _you_ when he could have _me_?" she screamed, slapping my face.

I heard the innocent fliers yelling, and then the heavy footfalls as the team came running to my aid. Birch was lifted off me, restrained by Donnelly who was easily the strongest on the team.

I sat up as James landed his broom next to me, obviously using the faster mode of transport.

"Lily!" he shouted, obvious worry coating his voice.

He ran over to me, helping me up. My hair was caked in mud; it was everywhere. Wet sloppy mud. I groaned.

"Lily?" he said, alerted by my groan.

"Look at all this mud!" I complained.

He chuckled. "Yes, there is rather a lot of it, isn't there? But Lily, are you OK? Are you hurt?" he asked, still unashamedly anxious.

"Yeah, James, I'm fine, just muddy," I assured him. He turned after ensuring I was OK, walking towards Birch, who was still struggling against Donnelly's hold.

"James?" I called after him. He turned instantly.

"Yeah?"

"Don't, she's really not worth it," I warned.

"Please?" he begged, a boyish twinkle in his eye, playful. He was desperate, I suppose it wouldn't hurt that much and how could I deny him his fun?

I laughed. "OK, but _just _yelling, yeah?"

"Honestly Evans, you have some serious misconceptions about me!" he teased.

He nodded anyway, smiling. As soon as he turned, he was angry again, ready to let it all out on Birch. Daisy came over and helped me out of the mud I was still sat in.

"You OK?" she asked.

"Yeah, fine," I assured.

Daisy looked at me, skeptical. There was a pause, and then she returned to her previous stance.

"Do you think she meant it?" I asked, turning towards her.

She looked at me sternly though mockingly. "Lily, James loves you so much, he's not honestly going to let someone pay him to be with you, don't be stupid. She's just a cow; ignore her. She's blown her cover now, anyway," she winked at me.

I laughed. It was true; no one would believe her innocent anymore. We watched James let her have it, more amused than we probably should have been.

"How _dare _you attack anyone on this pitch, let alone my girlfriend!" he bellowed, "That's the head girl, I'll have you know! You are here to play Quidditch, but obviously you just wanted a bit of a fight then, did you? Get off this pitch, you make me sick!"

Donnelly released her and she went straight to attack James. My breath caught in my throat, but he was ready. He caught her fists mid air, looking at her scornfully, chasteningly. It was almost comical, the look on his face.

She stamped her foot – literally – pulled her arms out of James' weak grasp and stamped off the pitch to cheers from the stands.

"I don't know what he was more angry about," I whispered jokingly to Daisy, "The fact she attacked me in the first place or the fact she did it on a Quidditch pitch."

She laughed, smiling at me. We both watched as James ran over to us.

"Sure you're OK, Lil'?" he asked, his eyebrows rising. I nodded eagerly. He reached over and took my hand, pulling me over to stand next to him. It was the first time he'd displayed our relationship since the tryouts began, I noted. I grinned widely at him, a gesture he returned.

"Right, let's get on with it then, shall we?"

•••

Danny Mullog became the new chaser later that evening. Whilst I really wanted Daisy to, he was a very talented, rather young boy who seemed very lovely. James was happy with him, and that's what mattered most, I guess.

Embarrassingly, pretty much everyone had heard about my standoff with Birch, and people kept coming up to me and _congratulating_ me. I didn't even do anything! James kept going on about how mean she was to me, how brave I was. Again, _what did I do_?! It was comical though, as he'd exercised his power as head boy and given her a week's detentions with Filch for 'assaulting the head girl'. I think abusing the name of Quidditch may have been more accurate.

Later that evening, we were both squished up in our favorite armchair by the fire in the common room. I was wearing James' Quidditch hoodie; he'd given me it as we were walking back to the castle; I was absolutely frozen to the bone. It was about six sizes too big, but it kept me warm and smelled of James.

"Lily?" he asked as I idly traced the veins in his arm.

"Yeah?" I muttered, not breaking my tracing pattern.

"Thank you. For coming today, I mean. We made a good choice. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there to stop her. You warned me about her, and then I left you unprotected. Sorry."

I sat up in his lap, looking at him in concern and slight annoyance.

"James, you did absolutely nothing wrong. I'm not injured at all; I don't always need you there to protect me. Anyway, I didn't tell you she was dangerous, just not what she always appeared to be."

"Well, Lily, it's my job to protect you, to be there when you need me. You were there for me today, and I left you."

I sighed. "James, it's not like you left the country or anything, you just went to get your broom. Besides, I taunted her," I explained.

His face lit up, the change in him instantly displayed.

"Really? What did you do?" he asked. He looked like he did in 3rd year, when he first entered Zonko's joke shop.

I laughed, relieved I managed to change the subject before either of us got too angry. "Well, she said you only wanted me there to make me jealous, you didn't care about my opinion, so I kind of twisted the truth a little and said I had final say on who you choose." He laughed and grinned, nodding at my antics. "Then she went a bit mental and said –– no, never mind."

He looked at me, intrigue covering his features. "What did she say, Lily." He didn't ask it as a question, his tone was too warning. The usual rise in tone when a question is asked was reversed, this time the pitch lowered. I knew I had no choice but to tell him. Stupid mouth.

"Well, she said that you'd never choose me over her, and–" I bit my lip. No, he didn't need to know that bit.

"Lily," he sighed. I shook my head childishly, biting my lip.

"Look, if you don't tell me, I'll just ask someone else, OK? I'd much rather you tell me, you know."

Grr! He_ always _got round me!

"She said that it was obvious you were being paid to-. To go out with me." I whispered. Despite myself, I felt my eyes fill with tears. I shoved my face to James' chest, hiding the tears.

"Lily," he sighed, stroking my hair and wrapping his arms around me tightly. When he didn't decline it instantly it just got me even more apprehensive.

"Lily," he said again, impatience and pity colouring his tone.

I lifted my head, looking at him with a probably blotchy, ugly, tear-stained face.

"Do you think I'd ever even think of something like that? I've fancied you for ages; you know that. So why would I be being paid when you've finally agreed to go out with me? Can't you see that makes absolutely no sense?" He was slightly annoyed, but more bothered about my sadness. I sniffed.

"Yeah, well," I wiped my face on the sleeve of James' hoodie, "she could convince me anything, she's always had this kind of power over me, she really gets to me," I complained.

He hugged me tighter. "Don't worry. She's proved you can't trust her; ignore her as much as you can. Why and how would she know something about me before you? Don't trust her Lil'," he advised.

"Yeah, OK" I allowed.

He sighed. I looked at him questioningly.

James stood up and ran up to his dormitory. I sat up startled. How weird was that?

I sat and waited, completely unsure what to do. However, before I could think about it too much, he was back, broom in hand. His face had that expression he always got when he had a broomstick – elation and excitement.

"James?" I asked, confused.

"We're going flying," he announced, a spark in his eyes.

I laughed. "James, me and flying don't mix, you know that! I'd fall straight off!"

He moved towards me, a spring in his step.

"And that," he said, dragging me up, "Is why I'm going to teach you."

He helped me up onto his back before charging out of the portrait full-pelt, his broom in one hand, that glorious map in the other.


End file.
